


Illumination

by izayoi_no_mikoto



Category: Silver Diamond
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izayoi_no_mikoto/pseuds/izayoi_no_mikoto
Summary: Christmas is a holiday of plants, of pine trees and holly and poinsettias and mistletoe.  Christmas is a holiday to honor the child of God, who sacrificed himself to save humanity.  Christmas is a holiday to celebrate a ray of light being brought to a dark world.Amato does not celebrate Christmas, but Chigusa thinks that they might celebrate something like it, one day.
Relationships: Sawa Rakan/Senrou Chigusa
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Illumination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rose Argent (roseargent)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseargent/gifts).



> Contains spoilers for the ending of Silver Diamond.
> 
> To roseargent: I've wanted to write you something for a long time now, and I'm so glad I finally have the chance to do so. I hope you enjoy the fic and have a wonderful Yuletide!

Cafe Seasonable was closed on Tuesdays. On a normal Tuesday, Chigusa would have had the day off, and he would have walked Rakan home from school. But on this particular Tuesday afternoon at the end of November, Chigusa was instead at work, wearing casual clothes and helping his boss redecorate.

Cafe Seasonable was run by a man named Ono Nobufumi, an old friend of Rakan's grandpa. He liked fantasy books ( _Fantasy: 1. Reverie; illusion. 2. Fantasia (music). 3. Literature and other works dealing with fantastical themes_ , the memory of Kou's voice helpfully provided). Ono knew that Chigusa was from somewhere very different from this small town in rural Japan, though Rakan had elided the exact details when introducing them. And Ono had kindly decided to give Chigusa a part-time job at his cafe. Normally Chigusa's job was greeting customers at the door, taking and delivering their food and drink orders, running the cash register, and cleaning up their tables after they left. But today Cafe Seasonable was closed, and instead of greeting customers, Chigusa was opening box after box of inexplicable decorations.

"We'll put garlands across the bar," Ono said blithely, opening up a plastic bin of his own. "These ones, with the berries. The garlands with the lights will go over the windows. And the plain ones we'll hang on the walls. This wreath will go on the front door, and that one will go on the door to the kitchen. The Christmas tree will go in the corner by the door, right there. The snowflake ornaments will hang from the lights. And somewhere we have centerpieces for all the tables." Ono grinned proudly. "No one is going to be more decorated for Christmas than us!"

Chigusa blinked. Half the words out of Ono's mouth hadn't even been Japanese. _Garland_? _Wreath_? _Christmas tree_? Chigusa had gotten used to the foreign loan words that sprinkled Rakan's speech, had learned to wield a variety of katakana words without issue and look up new terms in his electronic dictionary, but they usually didn't come in such an avalanche. It had been a long time since Chigusa had felt this lost listening to someone speak.

Okay, no, it had been last week, when Rakan's friend Takahashi had talked about a _sport_ called _amefuto_. Chigusa hadn't been able to follow that conversation, either.

Chigusa looked down at the box of decorations. It was full of what looked like strings of pine needles. The plants themselves were fake, all plastic and wire, nothing but a pale facsimile of what Rakan could grow. _Christmas_ , Chigusa thought. It sounded vaguely familiar. He frowned, trying to recall where he might have heard it or read it, but he came up blank. Still, if the decorations were anything to go by.... "Is it a holiday?" he asked. "A festival?"

Ono looked at him with a strange expression. "You didn't have Christmas where you come from, either?" he asked. "I didn't think it was too odd that you didn't know Halloween, but I thought _everyone_ knew Christmas."

Halloween had also been a novel experience, one that Chigusa still didn't quite understand. Cafe Seasonable had decorated for that holiday as well; they'd taken down the fake pumpkins and black cats a few weeks ago. "Christmas," Chigusa echoed, testing out the sound. "No, we didn't have Christmas."

"Well, you're in for a treat, then," Ono replied. "It's no New Year's, but it's an experience. I think you'll enjoy it." He pointed at the box, which still sat fully packed at Chigusa's feet. "But for now, we have to get this place decorated. We need to be appropriately festive for Christmas."

 _Christmas_ , Chigusa thought, as he obligingly pulled out the rope of fake pine needles. _I'll ask Rakan about it later._ He was getting better, but he still needed to ask Rakan for explanations about Japan sometimes--this slang term, that cultural factoid. He didn't mind these reminders of his ignorance, not really. It gave him a ticklish feeling to ask Rakan and see his reactions--the widening of his eyes in surprise, the pursing of his lips as he pondered his answer, the too-fond exasperation when Chigusa was particularly obtuse. The way he smiled when Chigusa proudly made use of his new knowledge.

Chigusa still wasn't quite used to a lot of things about this world, but it wasn't a bad thing, not at all.

* * *

When Chigusa arrived home, he took off his shoes, opened the shoe cupboard, and saw Rakan's shoes sitting on the shelf, arranged neatly as always. Rakan was back from school.

"I'm home," Chigusa called out, placing his shoes next to Rakan's.

"Welcome back!" Rakan's voice echoed from the kitchen. "Make sure you put your shoes away, okay?"

Chigusa smiled and nudged his shoes so they were lined up neatly next to Rakan's. He admired the view for a moment--his shoes next to Rakan's, side by side, right where they belonged--and then he stepped up out of the _genkan_ and went to the kitchen.

Rakan was standing at the counter, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a large mixing bowl of minced meat and diced cabbage and garlic chives in front of him. "Chigusa, good timing," he said. _Good t_ _iming_ , a term from English. Chigusa understood it, now. "Come help me make gyoza. But wash your hands first!"

Chigusa obediently washed his hands at the sink. When he joined Rakan at the counter, Rakan was opening a package of gyoza wrappers. They were thin, circular sheets of dough, dusted in flour, a bit smaller than Chigusa's palm. Rakan placed the stack on a small plate, next to a small bowl of water. "You remember what to do, right?" he asked.

Chigusa nodded. Rakan had taught him how to make gyoza last month, with moderate success. Chigusa plucked up a wrapper from the top of the stack, dipped a fingertip in the bowl of water, and ran his fingertip around the edge to dampen it. "Don't soak it," Rakan said. "Just enough to make sure the edges stick together."

"I know," Chigusa replied. He spooned a small ball of minced meat into the center of the wrapper, folded the wrapper in two over it, then carefully pinched the edges of the sheet together, forming a half-circle of a dumpling. When he was done, he held it up, inspecting it. The pleats on the pinched edge were uneven, but at least it was recognizable as gyoza, which could not be said of his first pitiful attempts last month.

"Not bad," Rakan said. Somehow, he had already finishing up his second gyoza; the first, perfectly formed, sat on a plate, awaiting cooking.

"Yours looks better than mine," Chigusa said, adding his gyoza to Rakan's.

Rakan flashed him a grin. "I've been doing this a lot longer than you," he replied.

Chigusa paused. He waited until Rakan pinched the last pleat into his second gyoza, and then he struck. "And you're good with your hands," Chigusa said. "I would know."

Rakan dropped the gyoza. It fell with a faint _thwump_ into the bowl of mincemeat filling. Yes, Chigusa understood _good timing_ now.

" _You_ ," Rakan muttered. His cheeks were red. He fished the gyoza out of the bowl, brushed off a stray bit of minced meat, and set it on the plate with its companions. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop that?"

"Stop what?" Chigusa asked, the very picture of innocence.

Rakan heaved a sigh. "You're incorrigible," he said. "You know, I might not be able to hear your every thought here, but I can sense enough to know that you _know_ what you're doing."

Chigusa smiled at him and said nothing. Rakan huffed. "Incorrigible," he repeated beneath his breath. "I don't care if you aren't as good with your hands as I am, get back to work."

Chigusa took a second gyoza wrapper. "You could teach me how to be better with my hands," he said guilelessly. "You could teach me hands-on."

" _Stop it_ ," Rakan said, but despite the blush tinging his cheeks, his tone was good-natured, and more than anything else, his thoughts held an undercurrent of undeniable fondness.

Chigusa couldn't hear Rakan's thoughts word-for-word, not anymore, but the words weren't necessary. He could still feel everything that mattered.

Asking about Christmas, Chigusa decided, could wait.

* * *

There was a regular at Cafe Seasonable, a woman named Kaori. She was perhaps a few years older than Rakan, and she worked as an office lady at a nearby realtor's office. She patronized the cafe every Saturday afternoon, and occasionally on other days as well, her earrings sparkling and lips and eyelids thick with makeup. She invariably came alone, and when she arrived, she would take one of the handful of bar seats, cross her legs daintily, and ask Chigusa for his recommendation. He knew that she liked her drinks heavily sugared, and he gave his recommendation accordingly; she would order whatever he suggested and proceed to spend the rest of the afternoon sipping at her drink, watching with hooded eyes as he served other customers. In the moments when his hands were free, she would strike up a conversation, which often resulted in her batting her eyes, stating her ignorance about a variety of topics, and complimenting him outrageously.

Chigusa found her to be a vaguely baffling but generally harmless creature.

That Saturday, like clockwork, Kaori showed up at Cafe Seasonable. When she walked in the door, she let out a little gasp, her eyes going wide. "Ono-san, it looks so beautiful!" she exclaimed, gazing around the cafe at all the Christmas decorations. "It's like a real _winter wonderland_!" The last part was in English; Chigusa had no idea what it meant, but it sounded complimentary.

Chigusa cast an assessing eye about the cafe. The walls were festooned with garlands ( _garland: A decoration made of braided plants such as vines and flowers_ ), pinned up in gentle arcs and tied with long-tailed red velvet ribbons. From each light fixture hung a delicate snowflake decoration, a pale icy blue that gleamed with silver sparkles. The false fir tree in the corner stood nearly as tall as Chigusa; strings of tiny white lights and silver beads were draped over its plastic branches, and shining orbs in maroon and ivory were nestled amid the faux pine needles, and perched upon the very top was a golden star. On each table was a small centerpiece, a fake plant with prickly leaves and bright red berries nestled in a bed of cotton snow, and sitting by the cash register was a pot of bright red flowers, these ones real, the petals shaped like leaves.

Chigusa still didn't understand the point of all the Christmas decorations or what they meant, but they did create a striking scene. There was part of him that would probably remain forever awed by plants--stunned by the fact of their very existence--and even though most of these Christmas decorations were fake flora rather than living, the mere fact that this world had a holiday that people celebrated by surrounding themselves with beautiful plants in the dead of winter filled him with the same sense of wonderment he'd felt when he'd first witnessed a tree sprout from Rakan's fingertips.

He wished he could capture this moment, freeze and seize this tableau of holly and pine, and show it to Narushige and Touji and Kou and everyone else back in Amato. Surely they, too, would feel that same chord of dazzling awe struck within them.

Kaori took her regular seat at the bar, still chattering away about all the Christmas decorations. "It's so lovely, Ono-san," she gushed. "The garlands! The snowflakes! The _tree_! You've outdone yourself."

"Thank you, Kaori-san," Ono said from behind the counter. "But you should tell that to Chigusa-kun, not me. He's the one who put up most of the decorations."

Kaori turned to look at Chigusa. "You did, Chigusa-chan?" she asked. Chigusa wasn't quite sure why she called him _Chigusa-chan_ , but he chalked it up to being another of her baffling but harmless quirks. "It looks so wonderful! You have such a good eye for this sort of thing."

"Thank you," Chigusa responded. He wasn't exactly sure what she was complimenting him for, but he had learned that _thank you_ was a good default response.

Kaori primly crossed her legs, her eyes raking him up and down. "And you're stylish as always."

These, on the other hand, were words of praise he was used to by now; she spouted some variation on the theme whenever she saw him. Which was also baffling, given that he was wearing the same uniform every time. "Thank you," Chigusa repeated.

Kaori exhaled slowly. Then she smiled up at him. "What drink would you recommend for me today, Chigusa-chan?"

"We have a new Christmas drink," Chigusa promptly answered. "Peppermint cocoa." After months of working at the cafe, the word _cocoa_ was an old friend, but he'd had to look up _peppermint_ in his electronic dictionary when he'd first seen it on the new specials menu ( _peppermint: a mint plant native to Europe, or the flavoring derived from its leaves_ ). But he said it flawlessly now.

"That sounds wonderful," Kaori said, her voice rising to something high-pitched and cutesy. "You always know exactly what I like, Chigusa-chan."

"Then I'll put the order in," Chigusa replied, turning for the kitchen.

When he brought out her peppermint cocoa a few minutes later, Kaori oohed and ahhed over how cute it was in its snowflake-themed mug, then took a sip and sighed blissfully. "It tastes like Christmas," she proclaimed. Then she glanced slyly up at Chigusa. "Speaking of Christmas, Chigusa-chan, do you have any plans?"

Chigusa looked at her quizzically. "Plans?" he asked. "For Christmas?"

Kaori fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Oh, you know," she said, gazing up at him. "Are you just going to eat fried chicken? Or do you have a romantic date planned?"

Fried chicken? Romantic date? Chigusa cocked his head to the side, utterly at a loss. He was starting to regret not asking Rakan earlier about Christmas; clearly there was more to the holiday than putting up fake plants. _I'll ask him tonight_ , he decided. But he didn't need to know about Christmas to bluff his way through this conversation, because whatever Christmas entailed, he figured there was probably only one way he was spending it. "I'm not sure exactly," he replied, "but I'll probably spend the day with Rakan."

Kaori's expression stiffened. "Rakan?" she asked.

"Ah." Chigusa paused. How to explain Rakan, who he was, what he meant to Chigusa? Rakan had taken to saying that Chigusa was a distant cousin, if only because it got people off his back, but Chigusa had never liked that excuse. That said, he hadn't had much luck with his own explanations, either. He'd told the woman at the greengrocer, "My soul is bonded to his," and she'd dropped the box of mandarins he'd been holding. Another time, Chigusa had explained to one of Rakan's classmates, "Rakan took my heart in his hand," and the girl had positively shrieked. Both times, Rakan had gone bright red, the static in their connection making his thoughts fuzzy and indistinct but his panicked, embarrassed flailing obvious nevertheless. Yes, saying those things was over the top, and Chigusa knew it, but he liked wooing Rakan. And more importantly, it was all _true_ , all of it. But it didn't actually help to explain what they were to each other, what they were together.

Honestly, Chigusa wasn't sure _what_ to say anymore.

But Kaori was still looking at him with a strange expression, and so after a moment's thought, Chigusa settled on saying, "I live with him."

"You live with him," Kaori said faintly. "Oh." She stared at him. " _Oh._ "

"I'm sure he'll plan something," Chigusa continued. "He usually does. He's very good with stuff like that."

"He's good with stuff like that," Kaori echoed, her voice distant. "Stuff like deciding how you spend Christmas together."

"He's good at cooking, too," Chigusa added. He paused, considering. "Maybe he'll cook fried chicken," he said, mostly to himself. He wasn't sure what the whole fried chicken thing was about, but the way Kaori had said it, maybe it was a Christmas tradition?

"I suppose he cleans the house, too," Kaori muttered. "And looks cute while doing it."

Chigusa pondered this for a moment. "No, he looks just as cute cleaning the house as he does any other time," he finally said.

Kaori buried her face in one hand. "No wonder upping my feminine appeal wasn't working," she mumbled. Then she heaved a great sigh and raised her head again. "Well, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas together," she said, and then she lifted her mug of peppermint cocoa to her lips. 

"I'm sure we will," Chigusa replied, his mind already elsewhere. Maybe they could put up Christmas decorations at home, too. He remembered Rakan deftly making gyoza, thought of Rakan's slender fingers coaxing plants to life and filling their house with the scent of pine and peppermint. "He has good hands," Chigusa added.

Kaori choked just as she took a sip of her cocoa. Yes, Chigusa had _good_ _timing_.

* * *

When Chigusa returned home from the cafe, Rakan's sneakers were absent from the shoe cupboard. Chigusa paused, his brow furrowed, and ran his thoughts back to this morning. They'd eaten breakfast together, and then Chigusa had walked Rakan to school, but Rakan hadn't said anything about being gone for dinner. Had something happened?

Whatever it was, it wasn't an emergency; their mental connection was weak in this world, but Chigusa was confident that if something truly bad had happened, he would have been able to sense _something_ from Rakan's thoughts. So it wasn't a real emergency, wasn't something that meant Chigusa had to go searching for gun seeds. Perhaps something had come up at school.

Chigusa placed his shoes in the cupboard. They looked lonely without Rakan's shoes next to them. He closed the cupboard door. "I'm home," he called out to no one; the silent house had no answer.

When Chigusa glanced inside the kitchen, he saw a note stuck on the refrigerator with a magnet, Rakan's writing in black ink on the distinctive white paper. Chigusa pulled the note off the fridge. _Went to Motoi's for group project_ , it read. _Dinner ready, just reheat. Bath drawn. Back by 8._ He looked at the countertop; the rice cooker was turned on, keeping the rice warm. When he opened the fridge door, he found a bowl of miso soup, a bowl of wakame and cucumber salad, and a plate of shouga-yaki, the cabbage shredded and placed in a separate bowl. Chigusa smiled faintly at the sight; he was capable of feeding himself, but it felt nice to know that Rakan was taking care of him.

Chigusa took a bath, then reheated up the dinner Rakan had made for him, scooped a serving of rice into a bowl, and sat down with his electronic dictionary. As he ate, he typed the word into the dictionary, character by character.

_Christmas: A festival to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Takes place on December 25. Christmas is thought to have been merged with the winter solstice, an event widely recognized by many peoples around the world that celebrates the rebirth of the sun. The Holy Birthday; the Nativity. Also written "Xmas."_

Chigusa frowned as he read, feeling more confused than he'd started. He understood the definition on a purely literal level, but he still had no idea what Christmas was actually about; clearly he lacked the context necessary to understand it. His eyes settled on another new term, and after a moment's deliberation, he searched it.

_Jesus Christ: c. 4 BC-AD 30. The founder of Christianity. Born the child of Joseph, a carpenter in the city of Nazareth, and his wife Mary. When he was about 30 years old, he was baptized by John the Baptist and began preaching about the Kingdom of God. With his Twelve Apostles, such as Peter, he continued his ministry, but was arrested by Jewish authorities and sentenced by the Roman Prefect to death by crucifixion. His followers believed that he was resurrected three days after his death and called him the "Messiah" (savior), thus beginning the religion of Christianity. Jesus; Christ. The term "Jesus" is derived from the Greek rendering of the Hebrew "Yeshua," meaning "God saves." "Christ" is derived from the Greek "Christos," a rendering of the Hebrew "mashiakh," meaning "anointed," which refers to one anointed with sacred oil; the term originally was a title for the King of Israel, but at the time was also used to refer to the long-awaited savior._

Chigusa paused, his chopsticks in his mouth. More confusing foreign terms. He jumped to the next one.

_Christianity: One of the world's three major religions along with Buddhism and Islam. A religion that believes that Jesus is Christ, or the Savior. The faith centers on Jesus Christ, who followers believe preached the gospel of the Kingdom of God and was resurrected after allowing himself to be crucified to save humanity from sin. Descended from Judaism, Christianity began in Palestine in the middle of the first century and became the state religion of the Roman Empire at the end of the fourth century. The religion is most significant in the West, but has spread to all countries around the globe. Its three largest branches are the Roman Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church, and Protestantism._

Chigusa read it once, twice, three times, feeling more perplexed each time. Somehow, his comprehension of the whole was far less than the sum of the words he understood. He was halfway through reading it a fourth time, to no greater success, when the front door creaked open. "Chigusa! I'm home!" Rakan's voice echoed from the _genkan_.

Chigusa instantly lifted his head, a sense of brightness filling him. "Welcome home," he called out, setting his electronic dictionary aside.

Rakan walked into the room, shrugging off his coat. "Oh, good, you found my note," he said. "Everything still taste okay reheated?"

"It's great," Chigusa replied. "Did you eat?"

"Not a proper meal," Rakan groused. "Motoi didn't have anything except potato chips and cup ramen. His parents both work late, and apparently that's what he eats for dinner _all the time_. I swear, I don't know how he survives."

"There's enough left for you," Chigusa said. "Go put your stuff away, I'll heat up a plate for you."

Rakan flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Chigusa."

Rakan retreated from the room, his footsteps fading away. While he was gone, Chigusa prepared a plate, got a bowl of rice as the microwave hummed, fetched a pair of chopsticks from the drawers. When Rakan returned, his school uniform traded out for comfortable clothes, Chigusa was just piling shredded cabbage on the plate next to the steaming shouga-yaki. "Thanks," Rakan said as he sat down at the table.

"You're welcome," Chigusa said, placing the plate down in front of Rakan. And then, just because he could, he leaned over and nuzzled his nose against Rakan's hair. "Welcome home," he said quietly, "Rakan."

Through the static, he felt a faint tickle from Rakan's side of their connection. It was only the tiniest fraction of emotion, but it still made his heart swell, because if he could sense it at all through their weak connection, how deep must it run?

"I'm home," Rakan replied quietly.

Chigusa could have lingered, but Rakan needed to eat. Reluctantly, he returned to his own seat and leaned his chin in his hand. "You had a group project?" he prompted.

"Yeah, for English." Rakan grimaced. Chigusa thought his scrunched-up nose was cute, but he knew better than to say anything, and fortunately, here in Japan, Rakan wouldn't notice the though cross his mind. "We have to give a presentation," Rakan continued. "We're going to be talking about recycling." _Recycling_ , another foreign word. Chigusa had learned it when Rakan had taught him how to separate the trash.

"That sounds interesting," Chigusa commented, his face completely straight.

Rakan eyed him dubiously. "I can't tell if you're being serious or not," he said, his tone accusatory. Then his eyes fell on Chigusa's electronic dictionary, still sitting open on the tabletop. "Were you looking something up?" he asked.

Chigusa turned the dictionary so the screen faced Rakan. Rakan looked at it, his eyes moving back and forth as he read a few lines, and then he looked back up at Chigusa, his eyebrows quirked. "Why are you looking up Christianity?"

"We decorated the cafe for Christmas," Chigusa replied.

"Oh," Rakan said, a sound of sudden comprehension. "Now that I think about it, Ono-san does like his holiday decorations, doesn't he? I remember what it looked like at Halloween." He took a bite of shouga-yaki. "I should have realized that you didn't know what Christmas is. So, what did you learn?"

"It's a holiday," Chigusa promptly replied. Then he paused, uncertain of how to continue. He'd read the definitions, but he still didn't really get it. He glared at the electronic dictionary, feeling betrayed by its failure. "To celebrate the birth of... some religious figure?" he finally hazarded.

Rakan laughed. "Yeah, I supposed you wouldn't know what Christianity is," he said, grinning. "I don't blame you. I'm not even sure if there's a church in town. Don't worry about it too much--most Japanese people don't really know much about Christmas either." He sipped his miso soup. "So? What sort of decorations did you put up?"

This, Chigusa could answer. "A tree," he said. He used the Japanese word, _ki_ , and then he remembered. "A _Christmas tree_. And _garlands_. And _wreaths_." By the time they'd finished decorating Cafe Seasonable, he'd heard all the foreign words so many times that he had them memorized. "Snowflake ornaments. Holly centerpieces. A lot of plants, actually." He frowned. "A lot of _fake_ plants."

"Well, they _are_ just decorations," Rakan said. He didn't laugh outright, but he sounded amused. "Real plants die, after all. And not everyone can grow plants on a whim. If you're just going to use them as decorations, it's cheaper and easier to get fake ones rather than replace them every year."

"But why plants at all?" Chigusa asked. "Why put up a tree and decorate it? Why all the pine garlands and holly and--those red flowers, what are they?"

"Poinsettias," Rakan said, a bit absently. Then he frowned. "Honestly, I'm not sure," he replied, shrugging. "It's a Western tradition--we just kind of copied them." He looked back down at the electronic dictionary. "So? What else where you trying to find out?"

"I wanted to know what kind of holiday Christmas is," Chigusa answered. "At the cafe today, one of the regulars asked me about my plans for Christmas. She made it sound like there are things you're supposed to do on Christmas."

"Well, I wouldn't say you _have_ to do anything, but there are some traditions, yeah," Rakan allowed. Then his eyes went wide as the implications sunk in. "And you have no idea what people do on Christmas," he said. He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself, and then, with a hint of resignation, he said, "Okay, hit me with it. What did you tell her you were doing for Christmas?"

Chigusa allowed himself a small smile. "I told her I was spending Christmas with you," he replied.

Rakan stared at him, then heaved a great sigh and hung his head. "Of course you did," he mumbled.

"She made kind of a strange face," Chigusa continued. "Like I said something odd." He was enjoying himself immensely.

Rakan sighed. "Well," he said, then hesitated. "Christmas is kind of a romantic holiday," he said at last, his cheeks pink. "Most people spend it with their loved ones, you know?"

Chigusa tilted his head to the side. "And I said I was spending it with you," he said simply.

Rakan's face got pinker. "You're wooing me again," he accused.

 _I am_ , Chigusa thought. He thought he'd probably spend the rest of his life wooing Rakan, and be grateful for every minute. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked mildly.

He knew he hadn't. To the contrary; everything he'd said had been exactly _right_. And though Rakan was still blushing, the way he met Chigusa's eyes, utterly unwavering, said that he knew it, too.

Rakan shook his head, but with a fondness that made Chigusa's heart ache. "So, that regular at the cafe," Rakan said. "What did she say people normally do for Christmas?"

Chigusa furrowed his brow. "She said something about fried chicken," he replied. "And a romantic date?"

Rakan barked out a startled laugh. "Fried chicken and a romantic date," he echoed. "Okay, I guess we can do that. If that sounds okay with you, Chigusa?"

Chigusa gazed at him, his heart swelling. "Anything is fine, Rakan," he said, "as long as I'm with you."

* * *

The second week of December, Rakan surprised Chigusa by showing up at Cafe Seasonable unannounced. It was something he liked to do every once in a while, perhaps once or twice a month--when he got out of school, he'd take the bus over, still in his gakuran, and spend the afternoon at the cafe with his homework and a cup of coffee until Chigusa punched out for the day. He always kept himself out of the way and unobtrusive, not wanting to interrupt or interfere with Chigusa's work, but his mere presence was distraction enough on its own, because Chigusa found it only too difficult to tear his eyes away.

Chigusa was just placing two cups of tea in front of a pair of young women when the bells on the door jingled. "Oh!" Ono exclaimed from his place behind the bar. "Rakan! Welcome! Come, take a seat!"

"Enjoy," Chigusa said pleasantly to his customers, and then he straightened, turned, and caught Rakan's eyes. "Rakan," he said, unable to keep the warmth from his voice. Behind him, one of the women sighed.

"You keep hard at work, Chigusa, I'll stay out of your way," Rakan promised. He made his way to the bar seats, hung up his coat on a hook on the wall, tucked his bookbag safely out of the way at his feet, and took a seat, chatting with Ono all the while.

Chigusa watched him a moment longer. Maybe a few moments. Then, from the other side of the cafe, a customer called out, "Excuse me!" and Chigusa snapped out of his reverie. _Still on the clock_ , he reminded himself, and strode off to the table with the waiting customer.

Chigusa spent the next hour working as usual--welcoming customers, explaining the new seasonal drink menu, bringing bills and returning change. As he worked, Rakan kept to his own seat, sometimes tapping his pencil against the bar as he struggled with his math homework, sometimes mulling over his cup of coffee. Chigusa didn't leave his own work--he _was_ on the clock--but every time he passed by, he graced Rakan with a touch to his shoulder or a smile, and every time, Rakan looked up at him, his face lighting up.

Five o'clock rolled around, and Chigusa rang up one last customer at the cash register before going to the staff changing room in the back to change out of his uniform. When he emerged back into the cafe, in casual clothes with his bag slung over one shoulder, Rakan was once again chatting with Ono.

Ono noticed his approach first. "Chigusa-kun," he said, "Is Rakan studying properly? The Center Test is next month, you know!"

Chigusa knew what the Center Test was; he'd heard Rakan and his classmates complain about it enough times. He wasn't sure exactly how it worked, but he knew it was important for getting into university. University was also important, for some reason that Chigusa still didn't quite grasp. It didn't bother him, though. Rakan would probably leave this little town to go to university, and Chigusa would go with him, and really, what else mattered?

"He's studying properly," Chigusa replied. "He'll get into university just fine, don't worry."

Rakan was packing his homework away. "I'll be fine," he said. "I have to be fine. I've already had to repeat a year after--uh, after being _spirited away_." He grimaced a little as he said that; this superstitious little rural town still believed that he had been whisked away by the gods for a year. It was a convenient excuse for his time in Amato, but Chigusa knew he hated it--almost as much as Chigusa hated the _distant cousins_ excuse. "I refuse to take a rounin year on top of that," Rakan said firmly, zipping his bookback decisively.

"You'd better make sure he studies properly," Ono said to Chigusa, wearing a stern expression that was only half serious.

"I will," Chigusa replied, smiling faintly. He inclined his head, an abbreviated bow. "I'm done for the day."

"Good work," Ono replied. "Be careful on your way home."

Rakan pulled on his coat and shouldered his bookbag. "Shall we?" he asked Chigusa.

Chigusa nodded, and then he remembered. "Oh, right. Ono-san," he said. "May I have Christmas off?"

Ono turned to face him, blinking in faint surprise. "You want Christmas off?" he asked "That's unusual--you never ask to change your schedule." He scratched his nose. "Well, that's fine. Take the day off, enjoy yourself. You have plans?"

Chigusa glanced over at Rakan. "I'm going to spend the day with Rakan," he said, holding Rakan's gaze. "It's our first Christmas together, after all."

Somewhere in the cafe, someone let out a wistful sigh, and Chigusa couldn't help but smile a bit more smugly. Rakan covered his face with one hand. "Chigusa," he groaned.

"That's lovely," Ono said, sounding entirely too cheerful. "What do you have planned?"

"Rakan's going to surprise me," Chigusa replied. "With a romantic date."

" _Chigusa_ ," Rakan croaked.

"Because it's our first Christmas together," Chigusa explained. "And you're supposed to spend Christmas with your loved ones."

"Okay, I think it's time for us to go home," Rakan blurted. "Come on, Chigusa, let's go. Bye, Ono-san!" And without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Chigusa's hand and practically dragged him out of the cafe.

"Bye, Rakan. See you Friday, Chigusa-kun," Ono called out after them, and then the door swung shut with a click and a jingle. Rakan tugged Chigusa down the sidewalk, his head lowered and his cheeks flaming, no sound on this quiet street except for their own footsteps and the faint susurrus of the breeze whispering through the barren branches. Chigusa obediently let himself be drawn along, reluctant to pull his hand away.

They reached the bus stop, and at last Rakan halted. Chigusa studied him for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then his stomach dropped as he suddenly suspected that Rakan's reaction wasn't just for show. "Rakan," he said, at a loss.

Rakan raised his head. His cheeks were pink, although it could have just been from the winter chill. "Chigusa," he said, his eyes still averted, "you can't--you can't just say things like that in front of people."

Chigusa cocked his head to the side. "Why not?" he asked.

Rakan flushed anew. "It's just--it's a bit _much_. People don't really say things like that in public here."

"But it's true," Chigusa replied, a bit blankly.

Rakan finally looked at him. He wore a slight moue, and his face was still red, but at least he was looking at Chigusa now. Then he let out a sigh, and his shoulders slumped. "Of course it is," he said, his voice a strange mix of exasperation and embarrassment and a fondness that made something tickle in Chigusa's heart. "I suppose I should know better by now than to think you'll change."

"Do you want me to change?" Chigusa asked.

At last, Rakan's lips twitched. "You wouldn't be you if you changed," he replied.

And for a moment, there was a break in the static, a split-second surge of clarity. Rakan's love had never been a sharp or cutting thing, no keenly honed edge to draw the eye or pierce the heart, but it had always run to fathomless depths, and for a moment, just a moment, Chigusa could have drowned in it.

Then the static buzzed again, and it was just the two of them, standing by the bus stop in the December cold, unable to sense more than a faint echo of each other's minds. But it was enough.

Having Rakan by his side was always, always enough.

Chigusa smiled at him, soft and gentle. "Then I won't change," he said. "You'll just have to put up with me."

Rakan let out an exaggerated sigh, but when he looked up at Chigusa from the corner of his eye, he was smiling, too. "I think I can handle it," he replied.

The bus arrived then, and they got on board, greeting the driver as they tapped their transit cards. They took a seat near the back of the bus, Rakan at the window and Chigusa at the aisle, and the bus lurched into motion.

"You really are gung-ho about all this Christmas stuff, aren't you?" Rakan asked as the bus trundled down the road, bringing them closer to home. "I mean, you really want to celebrate it properly."

Chigusa gazed at him, long and steady. "If you're supposed to celebrate Christmas with your loved ones," he said, "then I want to celebrate it with you."

Rakan's blush returned with a vengeance. But when Chigusa took his hand, he entwined their fingers together, squeezing tight.

* * *

Chigusa worked at Cafe Seasonable part-time--three or four days a week, usually. On his days off, he liked to walk Rakan to and from school. Rakan didn't always let him--"People already talk about me enough as is without you waiting for me at the school gate," he'd complained more than once--but Chigusa took advantage of every opportunity he could.

Today started out promisingly in that regard. When Rakan was getting ready to leave, he didn't object when Chigusa reached for his coat, and Chigusa basked in the satisfaction of having a few extra minutes together. They walked down the street, past homes and rice paddies and the tiny local library. It was the kind of everyday victory that left Chigusa aglow for the rest of the day. But when they reached the school gates, Rakan had to ruin everything by saying, "You don't have to come pick me up after school today, Chigusa."

Chigusa frowned. (It was definitely a frown, not a pout.) "Why not?"

"Because people always talk when you wait for me at the school gate," Rakan replied, just like he had at least a dozen times before. "Besides, I have something to do after school."

Chigusa perked up. "I could come with you," he offered.

A mischievous gleam entered Rakan's eyes. "It's a surprise," he said, which only served to pique Chigusa's curiosity. "You'll just have to be patient and wait, okay?"

Chigusa had lived a thousand years; he could be patient for Rakan. "All right," he said, not at all grudgingly. (Perhaps a bit grudgingly. He could be patient, but he didn't have to _like_ it.)

Rakan laughed. "I won't be too late, I promise," he said. "I'll see you after school."

"Have a good day," Chigusa said. _I love you_ , he didn't say, but Rakan smiled up at him anyway, as though he'd heard. Perhaps he had, in his own way.

Without a shift at the cafe, Chigusa had no plans to fill his time, so he spent the day at home making himself useful. After all, Ono was right; Rakan's college entrance exams were right around the corner, and he needed to be spending his time studying rather than doing household chores. So Chigusa did the laundry, swept the floor, cleaned the fish grill and the kitchen sink. It made him feel good, to pull his own weight. To act on his own will, to act for Rakan's sake.

The prospect of being complimented by Rakan was nice, too.

Chigusa was just checking the laundry lines to see if the sheets had dried when he heard Rakan's voice. "Chigusa! I'm home!"

Chigusa abandoned the laundry without a second thought. He trotted to the front hall and found Rakan in the _genkan_ , taking off his shoes. "Welcome back," Chigusa said, and then he spotted the plastic bag. "What's that?"

Rakan straightened, picked his shoes up, and put them away in the shoe cupboard. "The surprise," he said, grinning. "Here, hold this while I put my bookbag away. No peeking." And he thrust the plastic bag into Chigusa's hands before vanishing to the bedroom.

Nonplussed, Chigusa looked down at the plastic bag. It was large and white and had the logo of the DIY store on it. He was tempted to look inside, but he knew better than to test Rakan. Good thing, too, because Rakan returned not a minute later and promptly relieved Chigusa of his burden. "Come on," he said. "Let's go to the backyard for a bit."

There was nothing Chigusa could do except follow Rakan through the house and out into the backyard. The riot of greenery that had greeted his first arrival here had yielded to winter's grip, the deciduous plants surrendering and falling into hibernation, but there were still enough evergreen trees and shrubs to put the rest of town to shame. Even in winter, the Sawa family home was teeming with life.

They had outdoor shoes by the patio door specifically for the backyard, and Chigusa followed Rakan's cue in putting his on and stepping out into the yard. "So I was thinking," Rakan said conversationally as gazed at the winter-crisp shrubs and spindly, barren trees, "you seemed really excited about Christmas."

It wasn't _Christmas_ that Chigusa was excited about, precisely. He still didn't really even know what it was or what it was meant to celebrate; there was nothing tangible or concrete to be excited about. But it was a holiday to spend with loved ones, and Chigusa already knew that for all the people he loved--and there were so many people, so much love he had discovered--there was no one he loved more than Rakan.

Most of the time, Chigusa liked being in Japan. He liked being Sawa Chigusa, who was only strange for having spent so much of his childhood abroad, who worked part-time at a cafe and lived in the house with too many plants and had not lived a thousand years as a marionette dancing at the end of Hoshimi-no-koto's strings. But at times like this, he yearned to go back to Amato, just for a moment. Because right now, the static in their connection was nearly deafening, and he wished desperately that he could cut through it all and see directly into Rakan's heart--not because he doubted what Rakan felt, because he could _never_ doubt Rakan, but because that meant Rakan would be able to see his heart, too, and Chigusa knew that for all of his willingness to woo and charm, mere words could never express all the things he had inside.

But even without that, Rakan knew. Somehow, he always did.

"I'm excited about spending Christmas with you," Chigusa responded, too honest.

Rakan let out a little laugh. "I suppose it's an adventure for you, isn't it?" he asked. "A new holiday, new experiences."

 _Every day with you is an adventure, Rakan_ , Chigusa thought.

"So if we're going to do Christmas," Rakan continued, "I thought we might as well do it properly."

And Rakan reached into the plastic bag and pulled something out, and just as he turned his palm up and opened his hand, Chigusa caught a glimpse of a tiny sprig of green unfurling, spreading, _growing_ \--

Rakan crouched down, lowering the growing plant to the ground. Its roots delved deep into the earth as it sprouted up, rising and spreading its boughs, needles crackling as they grew and split and grew again--

And then Rakan pulled his hand away from the bark, and the tree settled and stilled.

The tiny twig had exploded into an evergreen tree over two meters tall, its needles sharp and crisp and vibrant green, the aroma of sap and pine thick in the air. Rakan brushed his hands off, looking the tree up and down assessingly. "Not bad," he said, nodding to himself. He dove back into the bag, pulled out a clear plastic box filled with delicate, shining orbs in blue and silver, which he held out to Chigusa with the beginnings of a grin. "We're going to have a proper Christmas tree, you and I."

"A Christmas tree," Chigusa echoed. His heart felt fit to burst.

"It might be the only real, live Christmas tree in the entire prefecture," Rakan added. "And we're going to decorate it. You think you're ready for the challenge?"

Chigusa felt his lips begin to curl up in a smile. "I _did_ decorate the tree at Cafe Seasonable," he replied. "I have lots of tree-decorating experience."

Rakan grinned back, gleeful and wild. He pulled an enormous spool of metallic silver garland from the bag, uncoiled about a meter's worth, and met Chigusa's gaze with a spark of challenge in his eyes. "Then show me what you've got."

They wrapped the tinsel garland around the pine tree, tucking it firmly in the branches so that stray gusts of wind couldn't carry it away; when they got near the top of the tree, Rakan handed the garland off to Chigusa with a scowl, unable to reach. Then Rakan produced no fewer than five boxes of ornaments from the plastic bag--dozens of balls in silver and blue and gold, some sparkling, some rippled, some matte and some shiny, each dangling from a loop of silver string. Chigusa hung the baubles carefully--perhaps too carefully, if Rakan's amusement were anything to judge by--and then Rakan produced a box of ornaments shaped like snowflakes and icicles, and those went on the tree as well, elegant and crystalline. Then, at last, Rakan pulled one last decoration from the plastic bag: a large silver star.

"You're going to have to put the star on top, Chigusa, I'm not tall enough," Rakan said.

Chigusa took the star, stretched up high, and hooked it over the very top of the tree. Then he stepped back a few paces, next to Rakan, and together they admired their handiwork. The sky was already going dark, but even shrouded by dusk, their tree glittered and shone ephemerally.

Chigusa still wasn't sure of the purpose of having a Christmas tree, but perhaps it was this--spending time together with loved ones in the cold and lifeless winter to make something beautiful and alive.

He snuck a glance at Rakan, just from the corner of his eye. Rakan was gazing up at the tree, but he wore a complicated expression--a shadow Chigusa couldn't read, a distance Chigusa couldn't quite decipher. Whatever it was, Chigusa knew it was beyond his ken to fix; there were too many things about this world, about Rakan's place in it, that he did not understand. But that didn't mean he didn't want to try.

He reached out and pulled Rakan against him, his fingers gently stroking through Rakan's hair. Rakan startled a little, but then the tension drained out of him, and he leaned into Chigusa's side, his weight warm and precious.

"I think we did a pretty good job," Chigusa said.

Rakan rested his head against Chigusa's shoulder. "Yeah," he replied, "I think we did."

* * *

Rakan's trip to the DIY store had included one last purchase: a few packets of other types of seeds. Over the next week or two, Rakan grew them and scattered the resulting plants around the house. Crimson poinsettias appeared in pots on the kitchen windowsill and the living room table; sprigs of holly with their spiny leaves and bright red berries adored the top of the shoe cupboard in the _genkan_. When Chigusa came home from the cafe one day, he found Rakan carefully nurturing a pine branch into a loop, and they decorated it with a large velveteen bow and a few spare ornaments that hadn't quite made it onto the tree and hung it on the front door.

Rakan's friends commented on the decorations when they came over, and Rakan just smiled and said, "Chigusa wanted Christmas decorations."

There was one plant that was new to Chigusa, that hadn't been part of the Christmas decorations at Cafe Seasonable. It was a small plant, barely more than a twig, with smooth oval leaves and round white berries. Chigusa noticed it one morning as he was waiting outside the bedroom for Rakan; it was pinned to the lintel above the door, tied with a bit of cheery red ribbon. Chigusa stopped beneath it and looked up at it, his brow knitted in confusion. "Rakan, what's that?"

Rakan followed Chigusa's gaze to the plant. Then his face did something funny. "That's mistletoe," he said, visibly trying to fight down a blush and largely failing. "It's another Christmas decoration."

"We don't have that at the cafe," Chigusa mused.

"Not a surprise," Rakan muttered.

"Why is it above the door?" Chigusa asked.

"Because that's where you put it," Rakan said. "It's another Christmas tradition, don't worry about it." He approached Chigusa, hesitated. Then he put a hand to Chigusa's chest, rose onto his tiptoes, and brushed his lips against Chigusa's, just for a moment.

"Rakan," Chigusa breathed.

"I have to get to school," Rakan said. "Walk with me?"

Of course, Chigusa did.

* * *

The day before Christmas was the final day of the term at Rakan's high school. There were no classes that day, just a closing ceremony to mark the end of the trimester, which meant that Rakan would be released in time for lunch. "You can come pick me up, if you want," Rakan said over breakfast. "We can go run some errands afterward."

So of course, when the school bells chimed at noon, Chigusa was waiting outside the gates.

The students came streaming out of the buildings almost immediately, chattering excitedly about their plans for Christmas and New Year's. A number of them did a double-take at the sight of Chigusa, some whispering behind uplifted hands, others tittering amongst themselves. Chigusa paid them no heed; it was nothing he wasn't used to. And it was well worth it for the sight of Rakan's face when he spotted Chigusa waiting for him. "Chigusa! You came!" he exclaimed, as though he hadn't expected it.

"Of course I came," Chigusa said. "Where are we off to?"

"We need to get some food," Rakan replied. "Just the usual."

For Rakan, _the usual_ meant not the town's single full-fledged grocery store, but rather a series of small family-owned stores--the greengrocers and fishmongers, the businesses that had been run by the same family for generations. The owners all knew him by name, and they greeted him cheerfully when he showed up.

"Oh, Rakan!" the baker said. "Yes, dinner rolls and a loaf of bread--is there anything else you need? Here, why don't I add an almond croissant for you--we just started making them, brand new recipe, try it and tell me what you think!"

"Rakan-kun!" the greengrocer said, fetching a small cardboard box of fruits and vegetables from behind the counter. "I set these aside for you, just like you asked--I'm so impressed, all that hard work you do!"

"Rakan!" the butcher exclaimed. "What can I do for you?" He leaned forward, wearing a conspiratorial grin. "Let me guess--you need some chicken to fry up for tomorrow?"

"Make it about a kilo, please," Rakan said. "With a few extra drumsticks."

That was when Chigusa clued in. "You're making Christmas dinner," he said to Rakan, half question, half comment.

"Well, I suppose I could have ordered it," Rakan said. "We used to do that when I was little--Kentucky Fried Chicken does pre-orders and everything. But won't it taste better if it's homemade?"

This, Chigusa reflected, was most certainly true. "I do like it when you cook," he said.

"Fortunately, I like cooking," Rakan replied breezily. "Looks like we're both in luck."

The butcher chose that moment to interrupt. "So you've got your fried chicken dinner," he said, laying the pieces of raw chicken on a sheet of butcher's paper. "Any other special plans for tomorrow?"

"Rakan and I are spending Christmas together," Chigusa proudly informed him. "It's our first Christmas together."

The butcher guffawed. "Well, have fun!" he said in a booming voice, then leaned over to Chigusa conspiratorially. "Rakan's a good kid," he said. "He's had a tough time of it, so take good care of him, yeah? He deserves it."

"I know," Chigusa said solemnly. "I will."

The butcher handed over the paper-wrapped packet of chicken in a plastic bag. "Here you go. Merry Christmas!"

Rakan paid and promptly dragged Chigusa out of the store. "You're absolutely shameless, aren't you?" he muttered.

Chigusa _was_ utterly shameless, at least when it came to Rakan, but he had a more important topic to discuss. "What did he say? _Merry_?" The foreign word sat awkwardly on his tongue. "Merry Christmas? What does that mean?"

Rakan sighed. "It's English," he explained. "It means _happy_. You're wishing them a happy Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Chigusa repeated, testing the sound. "Why can't you just say 'have a good Christmas'?"

"Another tradition, I suppose," Rakan replied. "Christmas has a lot of those."

Chigusa had noticed. It was certainly strange, but harmless enough, he supposed, and intriguing in its own way. And he didn't mind learning these new things, not if Rakan was the one to teach him.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Outside the window, a fresh, thin layer of powdery white snow already covered the ground, and snowflakes continued to drift down from the sky, one by one. _Winter wonderland_ , Chigusa remembered, and smiled.

Beside him, Rakan was burrowed deep beneath the blankets. He wasn't exactly asleep--Chigusa could tell that much through their weak connection--but the fact that he was still in bed at all was surprising. Normally he was an early bird, up at first light.

Chigusa pushed himself up onto one elbow, reached over, and gently brushed his knuckles over Rakan's mussed hair. "Rakan," he said, just above a whisper. "Good morning."

Rakan buried his face in the pillow and made a muffled, mumbling noise. It sounded vaguely like _Good morning_. Or perhaps _Merry Christmas_.

"Merry Christmas," Chigusa parroted. "Rakan. It's morning."

With a groan, Rakan pried one eye open and fixed it crossly on Chigusa. "What," he said. It was not a question.

"It's morning," Chigusa repeated. "Don't you need to get up?"

"It's _Christmas_ ," Rakan said. "If there's one day of the year we can sleep in, it's Christmas."

Perhaps this was another Christmas tradition. "Okay," Chigusa said placidly. Then he remembered. "What about Christmas dinner, though?"

Rakan made another noise, this one closer to a growl. "Are you going to help me make dinner?" he asked.

"If you want," Chigusa replied.

"Then we can worry about it later," Rakan said. "It won't take as long if you help. So let's sleep in." And then, as though to declare the conversation closed, Rakan squeezed his eyes shut and snuggled deeper into his pillow.

Far be it from Chigusa to argue. "If you say so," he said, and he lay back down. He curled a finger around a stray tangled lock of Rakan's hair, let his finger trace down Rakan's cheek. Then he nuzzled closer, close enough that their foreheads touched and he could loop his arm around Rakan's shoulder, and closed his eyes.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, silent and still.

* * *

They stood in the dining room, staring at the table, until finally Rakan said with no small amount of rue, "I think we might have made a bit too much."

As promised, Chigusa had helped with Christmas dinner, but even he hadn't expected the sheer amount of food they'd made. The table wasn't quite so laden that it groaned beneath the weight, but it was a close thing. Taking center stage was the platter of fried chicken, the pieces delicately arranged between slices of orange and lemon. Mashed potatoes had been piped from a bag onto crackers in the shape of Christmas trees and sprinkled with fine-chopped broccoli to complete the image, providing a festive touch; a plate of cherry tomatoes, sliced down the middle and stuffed with mozzarella cheese and basil, added a colorful flare. They each had a bowl of corn potage and a dinner roll, and at the end of the table, waiting for after dinner was finished, was the fresh-baked fruitcake, riddled with raisins and dried apricots and cranberries and topped with shavings of almond.

It was a veritable feast, but one that was certainly far too large for two people.

"Maybe we should have invited Touji and Narushige and Kou. Then we might have been able to eat all of this food." Rakan rubbed his chin, as though pondering his options. "Maybe we can wrap some up and take it to them later," he mused. "They'd probably appreciate it."

"We can invite them next year," Chigusa said.

It might have been fun to invite them this year, too, but to be honest, he was glad it was only him and Rakan. It wasn't that he didn't love Narushige and Kou and Touji, because he did. He loved them deeply and dearly, second only to Rakan. But he did love them second to Rakan--loved Rakan most of all, in a way he'd never loved anyone before and felt certain he never would again--and if Christmas was a special holiday to spend with loved ones, then he wanted his first Christmas to be with the person he loved the most.

"Next year," Rakan agreed, and he graced Chigusa with an indulgent smile, as though he knew what Chigusa had been thinking. Perhaps he did.

Their dinner table provided a perfect view of the yard--the snow-covered ground and the stubborn winter shrubs and, most of all, their Christmas tree. An ornament or two had fallen off, no doubt dislodged by a particularly strong breeze or perhaps a stray curious bird, but otherwise their tree was as lovely as always, and made more lovely by the snow that clung to the branches. Chigusa wondered idly how long people kept their Christmas trees. Clearly it was not a year-round decoration, but perhaps they could keep theirs just a little bit longer.

The dinner, too, was wonderful. The chicken was perfectly fried, the breading crisp and the meat juicy; the fruitcake was just moist enough and had just the right ratio of the dried fruits. Of course all the food was delicious; Rakan was a sublime cook. But what made it special was the ambiance--the snowy _winter wonderland_ outside, the pine-needle garlands and holly and poisettias all around the room, the intimateness of sharing this moment together.

Chigusa would have been perfectly content with this--a delicious meal, a beautiful winter's night, plants all around, Rakan by his side. But Rakan, it seemed, had more in store. After they'd eaten their fill and more besides, after the leftover food had been stored away and the dirty dishes brought to the sink and washed and stacked to dry, Rakan turned to Chigusa with a gleam in his eye and said, "Are you ready to go out?"

"Out?" Chigusa echoed.

Rakan smiled. "I promised you a romantic Christmas date, didn't I?" he asked.

Intrigued, Chigusa obediently took Rakan's cue. He got his heavy coat and mittens, and he took Rakan's scarf and wrapped it around his neck for good measure, just to see the way Rakan blushed. When they stepped outside, it was verging on dusk, and the snow had finally stopped falling.

"Where are we going?" Chigusa asked.

"Kita-Hoshigamine," Rakan replied. "We're going to go see an illumination."

Chigusa cocked his head to the side. " _Illumination_?" he asked. It was another foreign word, one he didn't know.

"You'll see," Rakan said, with a mysterious smile.

Kita-Hoshigamine was neighborhood that hosted the town's main shopping street. It wasn't much, just a few blocks of shops and stores, but that suited Chigusa far more than the hustle and bustle of the big shopping districts of Tokyo; he'd seen the throngs of humanity crowding Takeshita-doori and Omotesandou from a distance, and that alone had been more than enough for him. Kita-Hoshigamine, by contrast, was a more subdued place; its largest open area could only generously be called a plaza, and while there were always people visiting its stores, a mix of fashionable boutiques and old-fashioned shops that had barely changed since the Meiji era, Chigusa had never seen it truly crowded.

Kita-Hoshigamine was a bit of a trip by foot, perhaps thirty minute's walk away, but Chigusa saw no reason to complain; after travelling huge swaths of Amato on foot, walking a few kilometers was nothing, even in winter. Besides, it was the perfect excuse to walk hand-in-hand with Rakan, and that alone was worth it, even if there was little to see on the way other than the occasional house with a Christmas tree visible through a window. By the time they arrived at Kita-Hoshigamine, it was well and truly dark, and the sky overhead sparkled with countless stars. But that was not what made Chigusa halt mid-step, taken in by the sight.

Kita-Hoshigamine was a practical festival of lights.

The trees that lined either side of the street had been wrapped in strings of white lights from the bases of their trunks to the tips of their bare, outstretched branches. White lights arched like banners across the street as well, forming a tunnel with electric snowflakes and stars overhead. And at the end of the tunnel, in the small plaza at the end of the street, was a Christmas tree, at least five meters tall and bedecked with a rainbow symphony of lights.

"It's not the light-flowers," Rakan said, "and it's not as impressive as the illuminations in places like Tokyo or Osaka. But I thought you might like it."

Chigusa gazed up at the thousands of lights, shining bright in the darkness. "I do," he replied, quiet.

As they ambled down the sidewalk, Chigusa craned his neck to admire the decorative lights. It was only a few blocks, a couple hundred meters at most, but the illumination was so strikingly, unexpectedly beautiful that he felt almost as though he had been transported to another world.

Rakan's world, he thought, would never cease to surprise and astound him.

When they arrived at the plaza, they halted by silent agreement and gazed up at the Christmas tree. It stood on a festive plinth checked in red and green, with dozens of presents wrapped in shimmering silver and gold wrapping paper stacked around its base. It was swathed in thick golden garlands and red and gold ornaments, and countless lights in all colors shone from between its branches. The sight was made even more stunning by the snow that clung, pristine and pure, like an ethereal veil. The crowning touch was the star at the very top--a counterpart to the illumination, it was outlined in shining white lights, a beacon in the night.

"I hate to say it," Rakan said, "but I think this is more impressive than our tree."

By most metrics, it was more impressive, Chigusa had to admit; it was much taller, and the ornaments were larger, and the lights wrapped all around it were beautiful. But all the same--"I like our tree better," Chigusa said. "Ours is real."

Rakan made a soft noise of agreement. "You're right, Chigusa. As usual."

"Why are there presents under the tree?" Chigusa asked.

Rakan laughed. "That's right, I forgot to tell you," he said. "Another Christmas tradition is gifts. Children get gifts from Santa Claus."

Chigusa frowned quizzically. "Santa Claus?"

"It's just a story," Rakan said, grinning. "Santa Claus is supposed to come in the middle of the night and leave presents for children to find on Christmas morning. He's not real--it's actually the parents who leave the presents--but it's part of the magic of Christmas when you're a kid."

It seemed like a strange tradition, but then again, so many other Christmas traditions seemed strange, too. "Do other people get presents, too?" Chigusa asked, intrigued.

"Not from Santa," Rakan replied. "But people give each other Christmas presents, sometimes."

Chigusa turned a reproachful stare on him. "I could have gotten you a present," he said. He felt strangely bereft at being denied this opportunity.

Rakan shrugged. "I don't need any gifts," he said. "Do you?"

Chigusa pondered this for a moment, but there was really only one answer. "Being with you is the only gift I need," he replied.

" _Chigusa_ ," Rakan said, flushing.

Chigusa gazed at him. The lights from the illumination played off his face, and he looked almost vulnerable and only too breathtaking, and Chigusa was struck with the sudden urge to be alone with him. But there were a handful of other couples in the plaza, murmuring quietly to each other as they stood arm-in-arm around the Christmas tree, so Chigusa tugged Rakan away, toward the railed walkway that spiraled up to the second floor of shops. Rakan trailed after him only too willingly, their fingers linked gently together, asking no questions.

Halfway up the walkway, Chigusa stopped, turned back to Rakan, tilted his chin up, and kissed him. Just for a moment, just long enough for Rakan's fingers to tighten on his. Then he pulled back, just far enough to gaze into Rakan's eyes.

Rakan gazed back, unflinching and unafraid. "What was that for?" he asked, a bit breathless.

"A Christmas present," Chigusa replied.

Rakan blinked up at him, nonplussed. Then he let out a surprised noise, half choke and half snort, and dropped his head onto Chigusa's shoulder, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. "Chigusa," he groaned, but if he'd been trying for a show of exasperation, the laughter in his voice ruined it.

Chigusa smiled beatifically. Rakan gave him a playful shove. "You know, you don't have to woo me anymore," he said.

"I know," Chigusa replied, as though it were obvious. To him, it was. "But I want to."

Rakan laughed like it was startled out of him, clear as the peal of a bell. He leaned against the railing, looking up at Chigusa with a fondness so helpless it hurt. "Thanks, Chigusa," he said, his voice suddenly soft.

Chigusa cocked his head to the side. "Thanks for what?"

"For wanting to celebrate Christmas," Rakan replied. "It was nice, celebrating Christmas with you." He turned his eyes back toward the tree. "Seeing you experience Christmas for the first time--it reminded me of how I used to feel about Christmas."

The air between them was suddenly quiet, laden with some deeper meaning that Chigusa did not understand. He looked at the tree as well, studying it, but it was just a Christmas tree--festooned with ornaments lights, artificial but beautiful--and he couldn't see what about it had made Rakan become so serious.

"What do you mean, how you used to feel about Christmas?" Chigusa asked.

Beside him, Rakan inhaled, then exhaled. "You know, I wasn't going to celebrate Christmas this year," Rakan said.

Chigusa glanced at him, surprised. "Did you used to celebrate?"

"Yeah, when my mom and Gramps were around. I mean, it wasn't a serious holiday or anything, but we had a little fake Christmas tree that we put up, and I used to believe in Santa, and we had a nice dinner. You know. Pretty typical Japanese Christmas."

Chigusa still wasn't entirely sure what the difference was between a "typical Japanese Christmas" and any other type of Christmas, but he had the feeling that wasn't the important part. "Did you stop after they died?" he asked.

"No, I still celebrated," Rakan replied. "The year when it was just me and Gramps, that was hard. But we still celebrated, the two of us. And even after he was gone, I made fried chicken for myself and whatnot. Still Christmas." His eyes remained fixed on the tree, but there was something faraway in his gaze. "But it wasn't the same."

Suddenly, Chigusa had a vision of Rakan, only a little bit younger than he was now, alone in his big house on a cold winter's night, a fake Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, a Christmas dinner for one. The thought made his heart clench.

"But it was fine," Rakan hastened to add. "I mean, I never really thought too much about Christmas before, so it wasn't a big deal, no more than any other day was. It was just a holiday where we ate fried chicken and had Christmas cake and--just typical Christmas stuff, you know? But I never really thought about what it _meant_."

This, Chigusa sensed, was the crux of the matter. "What does it mean?" he asked, his voice soft.

For a long time, Rakan said nothing. He just stood there against the railing, his shoulders hunched slightly against the cold, staring at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree as though it were a window into another lifetime. Chigusa ached to know what was going through his mind.

"Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ," Rakan said at last. "According to Christianity, Jesus was a man who rose from humble beginnings to lead a new movement. His followers were the forsaken and the downtrodden, those who had been told that they had no place in this world and that they had been abandoned by God. Jesus extended his hand to them and spoke to them of the possibility of a new world, a better world. He was said to have mystical powers, too--powers to feed the hungry, powers to bring life where there was only death. But those in power deemed him a threat, and so they executed him." Rakan paused, just for a moment, as he gazed up at the star shining at the top of the tree. "And when it came time for him to die, he forgave those who had wronged him, and he sacrificed his life to save all of humanity. After his death, he was resurrected, and now he is revered as the son of God, the one who saved the world."

At last, Rakan glanced at him--sidelong, just from the corner of his eye. His smile was entirely mirthless. "Sound familiar?"

Chigusa stared at him, his mind racing. He thought of Rakan cast away to the faraway hinterlands of Amato, gathering abandoned number children to him with flowers that shone with light and words that shone with hope. He thought of Rakan's forgiveness, of his utter faith in the potential for goodness in every person no matter what wrongs they had committed, of the love he had for each and every person who walked the earth. He thought of Rakan's too-short lifeline, of his acceptance. Of his determination to face down the Ayame Prince who sought to make the world wilt and die, though he knew the path would lead to his final breath.

Rakan had never wanted to be anyone's savior; he had lashed out against the idea of being the Child of God, had defied Hoshimi-no-koto's manipulations until the bitter end. But still, the people of Amato had gazed in rapturous wonder on the explosion of greenery and life he had left in his wake, and Chigusa knew only too well that when Rakan's name was erased by the sands of time, they would still tell the tale of the Sanome Prince, the one who had sacrificed himself to save them all.

"Do you think it's real?" Chigusa asked.

Rakan breathed in, slowly. Exhaled the weight of another world. "I mean, I'm not Christian," he said. "I don't really believe it, not in the way they do. But..." he trailed off, as though lost for words. "I don't know," he said at last. "The concept of divinity is a fickle one to begin with. Do you think Hoshimi-no-koto was really a god?"

"No," Chigusa said. His answer was instantaneous, automatic. "He wasn't a god. And you aren't the Child of God, either."

"I know that," Rakan replied. "And the people of Amato know that, I think. But for how long? What happens when everyone who remembers Sawa Rakan is dead and gone, and all they have are tales of miracles?"

Chigusa hesitated. He returned his gaze to the tree, gorgeously decked and alive with light. "All any of us are left with is tales," he said at long last. "So maybe they will remember you as the Child of God. Or maybe, after we're all dead and gone, Amato will celebrate the Sanome Prince who brought green back to their world. Maybe they'll have a festival where they gather with loved ones, and surround themselves with plants that grow thick and green even in the dead of winter, and decorate with ten thousand lights to illuminate the darkness. Maybe they'll celebrate to remind themselves that even when the days are the coldest and it seems like the sun will never come out again, the green will come back, and spring will return, and there is hope left in the world." He looked back at Rakan. "Would it be such a bad thing, to have celebration like that?"

Rakan gazed at him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. Then he ducked his head, his bangs hiding his eyes from sight. "Maybe not," he whispered.

For a long moment, they stood in silence. But eventually, Rakan sniffed, wiped his eyes, and raised his head. His eyes were red, but his expression was calmer now, settled. Centered. He took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, the tension went with it.

Rakan leaned against Chigusa, just a little, as he turned his gaze over Kita-Hoshigamine. "The lights really are pretty, aren't they?" he said. "I don't think I've ever really appreciated illuminations properly before."

Chigusa gazed out over the illumination, the Christmas tree aglow and the strings of lights dancing down the street. Overhead, the moon hung high in the pitch-black sky, bright and gibbous, shining its light down on them all.

"The illumination is beautiful," Chigusa said quietly. "But the moon is beautiful, too."

Rakan let out a strangled laugh. " _Chigusa_ ," he said. "You sure are a romantic, aren't you?"

Chigusa glanced at him, wide-eyed and ingenuous. "What do you mean?"

Rakan shook his head, wearing an expression that was slightly exasperated but mostly fond. "Nothing," he said, waving a hand. "If you don't know what that means, it's fine, don't worry about it." He turned his eyes upward, and expression softened. "But you're right. The moon is beautiful."

Chigusa allowed himself a small, secret smile. "Then I guess I can die happy."

Rakan's head snapped around, and he stared at Chigusa with wide eyes. Chigusa smiled at him, now, soft and genuine. Then, at last, Rakan smiled, too.

"Yeah," Rakan said. "Me, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Cultural Notes:
> 
> In Japan, Christmas is largely a secular holiday with its own largely secular traditions. One popular Christmas tradition is to eat fried chicken (apparently the result of a wildly successful advertising campaign by Kentucky Fried Chicken--and yes, KFC does do Christmas pre-orders!). Christmas cake is also popular, often some kind of fruit cake (which may or may not be fruitcake). For couples, Christmas is often seen as a romantic holiday you spend with your significant other. You might go to see "illuminations," or decorative light displays [such](https://image.walkerplus.com/wpimg/walkertouch/wtd/event/03/n/17503_1.jpg) [as](https://img.travel.rakuten.co.jp/mytrip/content/trend/illumination-kansai/images/2019/01.jpg) [these](https://image.walkerplus.com/wpimg/walkertouch/wtd/event/79/n/17579_2.jpg). Illuminations can be seen year-round, but are extremely popular around Christmas and New Year's. Santa Claus is also a thing in Japan!
> 
> Because Christmas is essentially imported, a lot of Christmas-related terminology in Japan is just English loan words. This includes not only the word "Christmas" itself, but indeed words like "garland" ( _gaarando_ ), "wreath" ( _riisu_ ), and even "Christmas tree" ( _Kurisumasu tsurii_ ). Amato doesn't have any of these foreign loan words, so they're brand new to Chigusa! (Also on the topic of foreign loan words: _amefuto_ is short for "American football." Unsurprisingly, almost all of the terminology of the sport remains English, as does the word "sport" ( _supootsu_ ) itself.)
> 
> Japanese homes have an area called a _genkan_ inside the front door where you take off your shoes before entering the home. There's typically a cupboard or shelves of some kind where you place your shoes and store guest slippers. (Some people do just leave their shoes on the floor, though!) 
> 
> Food items: Gyoza are pan-fried dumplings. Japanese recipes typically call for a filling of minced meat with garlic chives (nira) and a soy sauce-based dipping sauce. Wakame is a type of edible seaweed commonly used in Japanese cuisine. Shouga-yaki is thin-sliced pork cooked with ginger and is typically served with shredded cabbage.
> 
> Kaori is an office lady (OL), or a woman, typically young and unmarried, who does secretarial/clerical work and pours tea in meetings. There's usually little opportunity for promotion, and the old-fashioned mindset is that she will quit when she gets married. Contrast with "career woman."
> 
> Kaori's method of flirting with Chigusa is essentially the Five S's, or _sa-shi-su-se-so_. This refers to five lines a woman can feed a man to flatter him and talk him up: _sasuga!_ ("Wow! How impressive!") _shiranakatta!_ ("I didn't know that!") _sugoi!_ ("Wow! That's amazing!") _sense ga ii!_ ("you have good taste!" or "you have a good eye for that!") and _sou nan desu ka!_ ("Oh, I see!") In this way, a woman can convey to a man that she finds him smart, attractive, and interesting. (How often it is used and how effective it is, of course, is another story. Clearly, it all flies way over Chigusa's head.)
> 
> Kaori also mentions "upping her feminine appeal." The term she's using is _joshiryoku_ (literally, "girl power"), which means what might be referred to as feminine arts, sensibility, and knowledge. The idea is that a girl or woman who hones her _joshiryoku_ \--her fashion sense, cooking ability, etc.--is improving her feminine appeal towards men, making her more desirable as a wife.
> 
> You'll notice that Rakan is at school on a Saturday. Some schools in Japan do have class on Saturdays!
> 
> The Center Test was the main standardized test used in Japan for university entrance examinations. Many schools, especially more prestigious ones, also have their own entrance exams, but the Center Test is absolutely the big, main hurdle. (Or it was; 2020 was the Center Test's final year.) Students who do not perform well enough on entrance exams and do not get into university may take an extra year to study and try again; such students are called _rounin_ , a term originally used to refer to samurai who no longer have a lord to serve.
> 
> The dictionary definitions seen throughout this fic are (slightly cleaned up) translations from Shougakukan's Daijisen dictionary.
> 
> And lastly, there's a story, perhaps apocryphal, that author Natsume Soseki was unimpressed by a student's too-literal translation of the English phrase "I love you" and instead suggested that, because Japanese people tend to be more circumspect about verbal declarations of love, a more apt Japanese rendering of "I love you" should instead be "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" If you want to accept this roundabout love confession, the proper response is, "I could die happy."


End file.
